Charles stopped the worship of her earlobe and pressed his forehead to hers, overcome by Aurora. She knew him, in a way no one else did. She always had. Perhaps that was part of why Charles found her to be so terrifying.
“You do give me pleasure, Aurora Sinclair,” he whispered, placing one hand on her neck. His thumb caressed the pulse beating in her throat. Lips lowering, he claimed her mouth with a groan of satisfaction. Aurora tasted of lemon and honey. Of sensual dreams and promises.
Charles pushed her further against the shelf, covering her smaller form with his own.
She surrendered beneath him, parting her lips, small, perfect little tongue tracing the inside of his mouth.
Cupping one breast in his palm, he squeezed, listening to her sigh. Full and rounded with small, pink nipples. He could see her breasts in his mind, no matter the layers of silk and cotton. The tips hard as diamonds. Incredibly sensitive. He could adore them for hours. They were that perfect.
Aurora whimpered, pushing her hips to catch at the growing hardness in his trousers. She nipped at his mouth. One hand clutched at his shoulder. The other, his backside.
God, she’s perfection.
Charles wasn’t sure of what exactly he meant to do about Aurora. Brandy and longing only got him so far in his thinking. At the moment, his mind wasn’t working correctly. All he could comprehend was the feel of her in his arms and the twitch of his cock.
The click of heels sounded on the floor just on the other side of the bookcase that hid them. Skirts rustled announcing the impending interruption.
Charles broke away from Aurora, quickly covering her mouth with his palm. She sagged along the bookshelf, watching him with heavy-lidded eyes.
“Someone’s coming.”
Chapter Eighteen
Aurora blinked, barelyhearing Worth through the haze of desire echoing along her skin. Warmth slid away as he jerked back, pulled his hand from her mouth and rapidly walked down the aisle in the opposite direction. He disappeared immediately behind another section deeper inside Tate’s before Aurora even came completely to her senses. Somewhat dazed and horribly aroused, she turned her eyes back to the shelf andLady Hamerly’s Baseborn Lover.
What had just happened?
She had returned the book to Worth with the assurance she would not bother him further. Ended their relationship, if one could call it that. He hadn’t protested. Now, just when Aurora had resolved to stop her ridiculous longing and force herself to fall in love with another man, Worth appeared and kissed her senseless.
Aurora pressed a palm to her midsection, trying to quell the taste and feel of Worth. And a great deal of confusion over his behavior. She took several deep breaths. Composed herself. No good would come if whoever lurked on the other side of the shelf caught sight of her swollen lips and the heated flush along her skin.
Glancing down at her bodice, she adjusted the lace. Smoothed her skirts. Finally, assured all was in order, she peeked through the books before her.
Only a sliver of the aisle was visible until a voluptuous form in silk strutted into sight, stopping abruptly on the other side of the bookshelf, like some hunting dog spotting a poor fox. An overpowering floral scent filled the air.
Lady Bryant.
“Worthington,” the sugary tone cooed, echoing down the aisle before moving forward with determination. “Is that you cowering in a stack of dusty books? It is you. I was surprised to see you here, at Tate’s, of all places.” She disappeared, her voice fading into the depths of the bookseller.
Aurora turned to the window, trying to make out her watery reflection. She looked appropriate. Not so much as a hair out of place. No sign of near ravishment. Nodding to herself, she slipped into the aisle and headed in the direction of the clerk, Mr. Stevens. With any luck, she could escape the bookseller without being noticed by Lady Bryant.
“Lady Aurora, did you find anything to interest you?” The clerk’s cheery voice boomed far louder than she found necessary.
Aurora cringed but managed a smile. “Not today, I’m afraid.” She took a quick glance toward the back of Tate’s.
Lady Bryant’s head poked around a bookshelf. Her narrowed stare focused on Aurora.
“Well, then,” Stevens continued, “we’ve a new shipment coming in a week from today. I’m sure there’ll be something to interest you, my lady. Shall I send word to Emerson House when it arrives?”
“Yes. That would be lovely. Good day to you, Mr. Stevens.”
Aurora walked sedately out of Tate’s as if she hadn’t been kissed and groped, willingly, against a stack of scandalous books. Difficult not to sprint away from the curious, discerning gaze of Lady Bryant.
Had she seen Aurora and Worth?
They’d hardly been quiet. Lady Bryant could have observed them silently before making her presence known.
She tripped on a loose cobblestone and quickly righted.
